Fragments of Forever
by Another Artist
Summary: Sometimes things don't turn out the way you want them to, no matter how much you both may want it. Ian/Amy. OneShot.


Sometimes things don't turn out the way you want them to, no matter how much you both may want it. Ian/Amy. OneShot.

**Fragments of Forever**

"We'll be together forever."

I believed you.

: :

It was a spring day when our heads looked up at the building that would be considered home to us from then on. He looked at me, and I smiled at him. He didn't reciprocate the motion, nodding instead. But I knew he meant the exact same as I did.

It was a spring day when we decided to, _as friends_, move into the same apartment. Ian's business interests shifted over to New York, and I knew he'd fit in with all of the other suits and briefcases in the streets. My job as an article writer for one of the biggest newspapers out there was also beginning, and they transferred me to New York, where all the big stories happened. It was only convenient that we shared an apartment, after all.

I had insisted that it was safer and cheaper for myself. He agreed because he admitted that it could get lonely staying in a spacious place all by himself, and he enjoyed my company. We'd already been talking constantly over the Internet from our respective homes - him in London, myself in Boston. We became friends easily in a couple of months. When we moved in together, it marked our two-year anniversary as friends, in fact. Even if our history went much farther back.

As we made our way past the front doors, I could feel myself stepping into a new chapter.

: :

He came home late often, due to late business hours and lengthy meetings with clients. I was home a lot of the time, researching for articles or writing and re-writing over and over. I would often cook dinner for two, wrapping up his plate and putting it in the fridge for him to eat later. Even though the reasonable part of me knew that he had probably already eaten at work before he came home, I still felt obligated to do so. It wouldn't seem right if I didn't.

It pleased me when I would wake up the next day, earlier than he did, as I often took morning strolls at the park across from our building, and peek into the sink, the plate there with scatters of eaten food there.

: :

There were nights when he came home early, though.

"Spaghetti?" he asked, peeking over my shoulder as he took off his jacket and draping it over his seat. I nodded, humming to myself as I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. He returned to my side, taking out one of my earbuds and placing it in his own ear, listening to my music. He didn't say anything about it, but I knew he liked it because he kept listening. He stirred the sauce I was heating up - store bought but delicious nonetheless - and stared out the window, a blank look on his face.

I watched in slight amusement as he stared off into space. There were times when I would wonder what he was thinking. He had changed from his younger self. He was less arrogant, more sure of his own actions, and much more serious, if possible. He smiled less often, though, and sometimes I found myself missing the younger Ian, who was stupider and cockier, but happier and brighter.

I wondered if he missed the old Amy, too.

"We should go out to the park one day, together," I said conversationally. He stopped his gazing to look at me, and I only shrug noncommittally. "It's nice, and I'd like to go with someone I know one day. They have paddle boats, you know. I've always found those fun."

His lips quirked. "I know," he replied with ease, still stirring. "Sure. We could go tomorrow. I only have one meeting, but I could reschedule." He peeked at me, as though to see if this pleased me, and I smiled to let him know it did. His eyes seemed to smile as he turned away.

We ate, him sipping on his wine every now and then, and I would drink my water with just as much interest. We spoke of books and music - it was then that he finally commented on my earlier music - and everything else we could think of. Work was never mentioned, though. I liked to believe it was because, when we were together, we liked to forget all of the things that made us stressed and tired.

: :

We went to the park the next day. He bought me gelato from a stand nearby, and though I offered him some, he refused. He just stood by my side, eyes wandering but his body beside me.

"We should get a dog," he said thoughtfully. I stared at him, surprised that Ian would want something so... normal. But then again, he was becoming a different person with different tastes.

I smiled and nodded, placing the spoon into my mouth as I savored the sweetness of the gelato. "That sounds nice," I told him encouragingly, and he managed a small smile in response.

I didn't expect him to actually go out and get one, though. Sometimes we spoke wistfully of things we wanted but could never happen. It wasn't very often that we actually tried for them.

I was speechless when a beautiful golden retriever came running through the door, its mouth hanging open as it panted with excitement. Ian was wearing a proud smile as he watched me fawn over it, and he said he named it Grace.

I laughed at that, this sad yet happy feeling overwhelming me as his comforting arm wrapped around me as we watched Grace familiar herself with _our _home.

: :

It was winter time when he finally took an actual break from work for the holidays. I expected him to announce he was returning home to visit Natalie, but when it never came up, I thought perhaps she was visiting instead. I was wrong either way.

"I was thinking we could go somewhere over the break," he told me one day over a warm breakfast filled with eggs and toast and hot coffee he brewed himself. He always knew how to make our coffee perfect.

I tilted my head curiously. "Well, I was going to go visit Dan and Nellie this break, but what were you thinking of doing?"

He sat there, sipping on his coffee calmly in thought. I was pouring Grace's food into her bowl nearby, waiting.

"Perhaps France. It's been a while since I went," he finally said, looking at me. I pursed my lips in thought. "But you should probably go see Dan. He is your brother, after all," he added, averting his gaze to the window then. I wondered what he was really thinking.

"Why don't you see Natalie?" I asked, taking a seat across from him. I noticed the paper said something about a famous model coming to visit New York for a photo shoot, along with other world news. Ian seemed to have not touched it yet, although he usually makes a point of checking it every morning. Maybe he was just waiting for a better time to read.

He shrugged. "She's busy," was his short response. "I'll probably stay here if you're going to leave. Grace needs to be watched anyway."

I frowned into my cup, taking a small sip of the coffee. "You can come with me," I offered.

He shook his head, standing up and putting his empty cup down into the sink. He leaned over and grabbed the paper. "It's fine, Amy. I need to plan some things for the new year, anyway." He made his way over to pet Grace before leaving, but stopped at the door of his room. "But you could make it up to me with dinner tonight," he said.

I grinned despite myself. "Sure."

(If I could go back, I would have said no.)

After a day's work of writing and editing and rewriting and more editing, I found myself looking forward to dinner with Ian. Before he went out, he told me to dress nicely. I wondered which restaurant he was planning to take us to, and let my mind dream about the type of food I'd have. It had been a while since I had gourmet food. A long while.

When he returned home, already dressed up because Ian was never dressed down, he took me down to the awaiting car. We sat together, arms touching but nothing else. I watched the familiar city lights pass, the whole city a never-ending blur. It was something I liked about New York - there was never the time to think about things. You think, you do, it's done.

I think Ian liked that, too.

As we stepped out of the car, he offered me his arm, and I took it gingerly. We stepped into a restaurant I had never heard of before, but it looked upscale and expensive, not that I ever expected less from Ian. The owner seemed to have known Ian, and he led us to a special, exclusive section at the back.

We took our seats across from each other, the dim lighting making Ian's face much more handsome than usual. The waiter gave us our menus and told us about that night's specials, and Ian ordered for the both of us because he always knew more about those things than I did.

We talked a lot that night. About the future, about the past, about the present. We talked about Grace, about new pets, about new opportunities. He touched my hand often, and I didn't think much of it then. I was so used to it.

"Amy, I -"

"Here's your dishes," the waiter interrupted, holding our main courses in his arms. He served them, and we ate to the sound of music in the background. I remembered the melody as something Ian owned and would sometimes play.

The night went on with laughs and smiles and tears of joy. Somehow, when I was with him, all of my worries melted away. It was something about the way he spoke, the way we interacted, that calmed me.

As we strolled in the nearby park after our dinner, he took my hand in his and the warmth was startling. I expected him to say something, but it never came.

Never.

(To this day, unspoken words still linger between us.)

: :

When I arrived back at home after a break filled with rambunctious children - courtesy of Nellie, as they were her nephews and nieces - and delicious cooking, I realized I actually missed Ian. As much fun as it was seeing Dan again and listening to Nellie's music blaring at the loudest possible volume, I'd become so used to Ian that it was hard to spend such a long time away from him.

(Thinking about that scared me.)

Pushing open the front door, my suitcase in tow, I expected to be the only one home except for Grace. But I wasn't. Ian was there, and so was she.

His new girlfriend.

"Hi, I'm Carrie," she said, beaming at me with her perfect smile that was worth thousands of dollars.

He got a girlfriend over the break. That short week I was gone, he met the girl of his dreams. A model, actually, who was smarter than she often let on. She was kind and passionate, and she worked at charities, and -

- and I didn't like her.

I never felt so guilty before.

: :

I watched him fall in love with her. I watched him come home late, not because of work but because he was with her. He was happier more often, and there was a new glow around him. I watched, and I was happy for him. Really, I was.

But at the same time, I wasn't.

Perhaps I was selfish for wanting him more now that he was gone. I missed our talks at dinner about everything and nothing, our arguments over trivial things that were forgotten by the time dessert was served. I missed walks in the morning and strolls in the evening. I missed my best friend.

And maybe something else.

But I couldn't tell him that. No, instead I watched as ice melted and warmth spread. Funny how I felt so cold, though.

: :

"I'm moving."

It had been a while since two words could have such an impact on me.

"I - okay..." was all I managed. But what else could I say? Don't go? Stay? No? That would be selfish.

He walked over to me, and it was the first time I realized the distance that had grown between us in a matter of months. "Amy, I'm sorry," he said, and it was sincere and I didn't doubt a word he said.

"It's okay," I replied quietly, continuing to work. But it wasn't really work, because all my mind could process was that he was leaving. He was leaving. Oh my gosh, he was leaving.

For the first time in a while, comforting arms enveloped me. Once so strong, so familiar, these arms no longer seemed to be as effective. I didn't have time to process the tears sliding down my cheek, because all I could think was _he was leaving._

: :

He left on a fall day, his suitcases behind him. He didn't have much surprisingly, as if he knew he wouldn't stay for long. Carrie was by his side, because she was leaving with him. They were going to the West Coast for Ian's business and Carrie's work.

I was staying here at New York for my writing.

As I waved goodbye and watched the taxi drive off, I looked back at the building that I once looked up at in awe and happiness. Only a few years ago, Ian and I approached this building, ready to start a new life.

I thought bitterly to myself about the contrast of feelings this building now gave me. It once began this new chapter of my life, and now I look at it as it closes that chapter.

: :

I received the invite for their wedding in May. They were married in June. It is now November.

I watch as their first child, a baby girl only a month old, is cradled by her mother. Her name is Isabella, and I tell Ian that the name is incredibly mundane for a girl so beautiful and special. But he tells me, "If they expect less, you give more." And I don't think anyone else but me understood that.

The atmosphere is warm and calm. I fall into the embrace of a comforting body, his arms holding me in place. Our gazes meet, and he smiles at me.

Across from us, Ian and Carrie sit, their pose similar. We talk together in a way that makes us seem like an extended family, close and relaxed. The conversation is all over the place, but no one minds the mess.

There are times when Ian's eyes meet mine for a second too long, though. Moments where his hand brushes mine and I stop thinking, stop breathing. But those moments are just that - moments. Moments in a long day where moments aren't really remembered, aren't really significant.

But these moments matter.

Still, as we look on at our loved ones and think about now, not then, we smile.

: :

"I love you," I told him one night before he got married, before he met Carrie.

And he smiled at me and said, "I love you, too." But there was nothing we could do.

Now that I think about it, perhaps we didn't want to do anything either.

He grabbed my hand, though, and squeezed it. It was his way of saying we'll be together forever. I squeezed back.

: :

"We'll be together forever."

I believe you (but there are times when I don't want to).

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Much love to the wonderful Syberian Quest for looking this over for me. **(And my next Ian/Amy is fluff, aha. Well, one of them is. I also have more angst... But fluff is assured somewhere down the line. It'll be at the top of my list, Sy. ^^)

Yes, I still ship Ian/Amy. I have not betrayed my shipping. And yes, I have seen those Jake/Amy stories o.o" Amy needs to stop being paired up with everyone in the series; it's getting ridiculous.

Thank you for reading. I know I'm practically irrelevant to this fandom nowadays, but it still means a lot that you guys stick around to read. I hope you enjoyed!


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